Job for the Chivalrous
by RazzDazz
Summary: “You wanted to get me, didn’t you?” The man looked at him with the eye of a hungry tiger. “You’re to choose wisely.”


One day he took the bus to downtown Tokyo. The bus was crowded and because it was he went behind. He did that to give way and space for people who might enter the bus. He grabbed on the handrail above his head. A severe looking middle aged OL (office lady) at his right was looking curiously at him. He knew that look. It was a look that was wondering in disgust whether his hair colour was authentic or he was one of those hoodlums who liked to colour their hair in garish colours.

Well, he couldn't care less. It was his hair colour for as long as he could remember. There were many people standing especially women. So he made sure he had both hands on the handrail. The slightest touch would send the lady ballistic. He wouldn't want to be pushed into the police station. It wouldn't look good for his family's reputation if he was known as a molester of ladies. He couldn't care less if the police officers booked him for involving in a gang war.

But it was uncool to be booked for molesting ladies. It wasn't chivalrous. It would bring dishonour to the family name. He looked at the outside scenario through the bus window. Then his ears picked up an irritating noise from one of the passengers seated. His eyes roved slowly from face to face and stopped at a seventeen year old high schooler who acted as if he was a member of a hood. The boy was two seats away from where he was standing.

He was rude to the girl next to him. He blew her ear, played with her piggy tails, undid her ribbon to her uniform. The girl was cringing in fear. Her eyes darting for help but no one helped. They were just minding their business. He scowled inwardly. This was 'polite' society. They didn't have the guts to tell the kid of. They preferred to be pristinely clean of any sullying incidences to avoid further problems with bad hats. They wouldn't even protect one child.

He wasn't surprised that girls went missing and when they were found they were either dead or psychologically and physically brutalised. Gone were the days of pepper spray. The in thing now was a metal nail filer and it was a fatal weapon in the hands of a frightened girl. He wasn't shocked to know that it was society who was to be blamed for the high rise of juvenile misdemeanors. The boy wasn't just rude, he was also offensive and a harasser.

He pushed his way to be in front of the girl. "I believe your stop is here."

The girl looked at him and nodded. She stood up but he held a hand up and gestured her to sit down back.

"Not you," He looked at the girl with cool eyes but when he shifted his eyes towards the boy, they turned hostile. "I meant you."

The girl nodded, startled at the man who became her saviour. The boy was taken aback at this man who didn't look much except that he was a third rate citizen. Whereas he was the son of an industrialist, he jumped up meeting the man in front of him eye-to-eye.

"Hoi, teme…" But that was the only thing he could say because he had his foot stomped on by the man.

The man shook his head in disapproval. "You better respect elders."

The boy cried out in pain and sat… on the boot of his punisher. The boy immediately stood up.

The man had put his booted foot on the boy's seat, "Oba-chan, please seat here." He smiled at the old lady who just came in and removed the boy's head bandana with a flourish.

"That's my bandana," He shouted at the man while glaring at him, "and that's my seat."

"Not anymore, brat." The man waved the boy's bandana, "This faded old thing," The man pressed the boy's shoulder, and the boy winced, "is perfect for this sort of cleaning." He passed the tattered bandana so the boy could clean the seat for the old lady.

The boy cleaned the seat with a trembling hand. "This is ridiculous," he said with disgust.

"Not as ridiculous as you, brat," The man raised an annoyed eyebrow.

The boy scowled, "I'll get you for this."

The man said nothing but bowed slightly to the old lady, "Please seat, Oba-chan."

"Really? Oh, thank you, young man," The old lady beamed at him, "You're very gallant."

"My pleasure," The man smiled again, "It's nothing really." He was smiling charmingly but his eyes glittered dangerously as he looked at the boy who was gulping in fear, "Isn't it, boy?"

"No," He swallowed his fear, "it's all in a day's work." He smiled but it turned out to be a grimace.

The man just applied pressure on the boy's foot as if grinding a half-smoked cigarette on the ground. "I may take you up on it."

The boy glared at him, "What the heck are you…"

The man applied more pressure on the boy's shoulder until the boy was in tears because of the pain. "Don't talk back to elders."

"This is bullying," the boy cried in protest.

The man gave him a spine-tingling smile, "The pot calling the kettle black, how ironic." He glanced at the next stop. "Finally, we can settle this outside."

"Wha-wh-What are you talking about?" The boy looked at him in panic.

"You wanted to get me, didn't you?" The man looked at him with the eye of a hungry tiger. "You're to choose wisely." The man whispered into his ear. He grabbed hold of the kid's arm and roughly dragged him out of the bus when the bus stopped at the bus stop.

Outside the man and the boy were greeted by three men. The man spoke in a coded language to the three men. Then two of them went to the car and popped the trunk open. One of the two took out two guns, and passed it to his comrade. He then took out two knives and two knuckledusters. They approached the man and the boy. The boy gawked at the weapons in front of him. Then he looked at the man who calmly gestured at him to select his choice of weapon.

"This is a joke," he stared in horror at the two men who brought the weapons.

"Waka-sama," the one with long bleached hair shook his head at the boy, "doesn't joke. Now, please choose a weapon."

"Wa-wa-waka…" he gasped in terror as realisation sank into his frantic mind, "You guys are yakuza." He looked at the man with red hair, "I didn't know."

"It makes no difference whether you know or not." The red haired man unbuttoned his dark jacket. He was wearing a form fitting black t-shirt, "You were playing hooligan. With me you can play for real."

The boy was so scared for his life that he peed in his pants and fainted on the spot. The man with a moustache clicked several pictures using an instant camera of the unconscious boy in several angles. The third man in a blue Hawaiian shirt scribbled something on a note then wrapped one of the pictures with the note and slipped it into his shirt pocket. The four men laughed out loud.

"What did you write?" The bleached haired man asked the one wearing the blue Hawaiian shirt.

The blue Hawaiian shirt fellow shrugged, "Something old but effective." He gestured a straight horizontal line with his hand, "Be good or suffer the consequences."

"That'd teach the kid never to mess with people especially the lawless." Ritsu Kasanoda glanced back at the unconscious lump on the side of the street, as the four men went into the car to go to their office which was just three blocks away from the bus top.

THE END


End file.
